I WAS SUPPOSED TO

I was supposed to crumble,

And to call it quits. But I wasn’t

Made that way. 

Crumbled, yes but

I bent down and picked up the pieces

Knowing that every piece had a purpose

Pieced back together glued together with scars.

I was supposed to tumble

And fall flat on my face. And I did,

But falling meant my viewpoint shifted.

Tumbled, to adjust, I got up with

New information that the shift provided.

I see better, with hands filled with the crumbs.

I was supposed to cry, your words held the daggers.

Designed to hurt, to tear and to rip open

You dreamt of blood, my blood.

The pain and the blood were merely

Confirmation that I was still alive

That my heart still beat and 

Not to quench your thirst.

Your design was for defeat.

But God had already armed me for victory.

Dodging arrows and patching wounds

Is my specialty. Fearless in my fear.

I was born that way. Fit to fight

Even from the ground.

A gatherer of crumbs

Covered in places you cannot reach.

Falling simply to rest and 

View the battleground from another angle.

Your design was for defeat, but

The only one who was defeated was you!

Photo credit: Humphrey M for Unsplash

AND THEN MORNING CAME

 

It was late.

The entire week had passed, and you hadn’t said a word.

You came and went as if I wasn’t there even as you grazed your shoulder against mine.

Our son was the witness…seeing how the only man he knew treated a woman.

This was your expression of love toward his mother…and mentally he took notes.

Then it was midnight on the seventh day, and you were ready to speak. 

So of course, you expected that I was too.  After all, the baby was down

the dishes done, and the laundry neatly folded in its place.

You’d mastered the art of saying a lot without really saying a thing.

You talked, I nodded and when you were finished, I noticed your bags packed and sitting in the dark corner near the door.

Your house key glistened on the table. I hadn’t noticed it before.

Perhaps the finality of your announcement made everything brighter.

“I’ll be back for the rest of my things,” You said.

I thought about the fact that you had convinced me to quit my job only days before

and we had to eat.  Your son needed diapers…milk…

It was odd that you had not mentioned those things in your ramblings.

“This time it’s you not me.” You said proudly happy to finally have the last word.

I saw you stuff the checkbook in your back pocket and the extra cash that we kept in the cabinet above the sink.

You thought of everything, except…

You forgot that I was strong. That I had been a survivor long before we’d met.

You forgot that you weren’t the beginning or the end of my world…just a part.

I knew love was never anything you understood or recognized.  

You wanted to be uncomfortable, angry, and so I was happy

that you had at last succeeded at something. 

And then it was morning. There was a knock at the door. It was Joy!

Photo credit: Sid Sun for Unsplash